Ships In The Night
by TheRedHerring760
Summary: There are some things you just have no control over. Future-AU
1. I Will Leave All Else Behind It

_Disclaimer : I own absolutely 0% of The Blacklist. These are stolen toys from Brokenkamp's treasure trove. I'm just borrowing them, giving them a go, and then I promise they will be returned in their proper positions once finished. I also do not own the lyrics / song this story was inspired by, it belongs to Mick Flannery._

* * *

_I am a sailor, I am a sailor,_

_An' I've been on my hunt for treasure._

_When I find it, when it find it,_

_I will leave all else behind it._

* * *

The temperature hovered at ninety-five degrees. The thick humidity, dense sea salt, light summer perfume, sunscreen and distant charcoal burning; all rising and blending together like an atrocious beach side cocktail. He found her absently staring forward at the waves building and breaking over the shoreline. The gulls squawked in fatigued misery, and the beach was lacking people – those smart enough not to risk heat exhaustion, and severe sunburn – then there was Liz, secluded in this small section she claimed for herself. Her feet buried in little foot holes she's created.

"Go away Red," She scorns softly, the words catching in the heat, sticking between their two bodies. "I would like to be alone."

He inhales, the wetness of the air tainting his lungs. The salty taste clinging to his lips. "What transpired today, -" He begins, tilting his head to catch a view of her face, frowning lightly when he sees the staining of tears on her reddened cheeks.

Liz holds up a hand, "You continue onward with that sentence, and I swear..." she grits out through clenched teeth, "Just don't Red, please. Leave me alone."

Reluctantly Red turns, trudges his feet back through the sand. Finding a desolate bench. He adjusts the brim of his fedora and waits; observes as she sat tensely in the same position.

He began stripping layers off the longer they remain stationary. His suit jacket folded neatly beside him. He then freed all the fastenings of his vest. Released the knot of his tie and several buttons were undone on his now creased shirt. Sweat was pooling on his back, and he was feeling rather faint. Though Red refused to leave her, and declined the offering of water once Dembe presented him with a bottle. Whatever self punishment this was meant to be; he too would suffer it.

The high temperature begins to break as the sun descended into the horizon; not by much, but a noticeable amount. His breathing was borderline panting, as he leaned forward and squinted at her frame. Only now noticing her head cradled in her palms, and the substantial shaking that spoke of the heavy sobs escaping her.

His heart grew impossibly heavy, it sank down into the pit of his stomach until both combined to form an enormous chunk of stone. He was more crestfallen with himself; than he could have ever expressed with words in that moment.

He wanted to go to her, he wanted to comfort her. But there were no tender words that could erase today away, and there were no forms of embrace that could mend her suffering.

Red felt deplorable.

* * *

_Ten Hours Earlier... _

A stillness captivated the room. No one moved. No one spoke. The silence was its own presence as real as their own occupancy. Her gun shook in her unsteady grip, as she pointed the barrel at the man behind the monitors. "You'll stop it, or you'll die." She warns, and Red is still taken aback by this reaction being displayed before him. Not truly registering that Liz didn't hesitate or bat an eye when she shot him - superficially, but she still shot him - in the leg to stop him from whatever she expected him to do. She pulls the hammer back and aims at Jacob's shoulder, "Seventy seconds."

"Lizzie," Red speaks mildly, her head snaps around to stare at him. The lethal mien transforming her darkened eyes sends a chill down his spine.

"I can't stop it." Jacob's voice rose an extra few octanes as his frantic fingers typed in commands. The clicking of the keys. A countdown toward his own fate. "I can't -"

She's still staring into Red's eyes when the gun goes off. Jacob's yell piercing through the dark ambiance. He observes the switch in her demeanor, as Jacob muttered curses between his gasping. A softening around the edges, a glistening in the whites before she turns her focal point back to Jacob. Demanding he keep attempting to stop his attack on the school.

In the end. When the drone releases the chemical weapon upon the unexpected children. When the monitors displayed the frenzied movements of teachers and students running. When grainy images from thousands of miles away displayed them falling into fetal positions and sputtering violently. Suffering a torturous gradual death.

Liz keeps to her promise.

The chamber loads, and the final sound rings around the area that now smelt of gruesome demise.

Her eyes close for a static moment. The smoke still escaping the barrel of her gun as it fell to the floor by her side with a weighted clunk. Her back stiff as she begins to leave the room, Liz's eyes catch his. And what he saw within them. He'll never erase such an impression from his memory.

* * *

It's well into the evening when he uncovers the ability to disrupt her. She makes no protest when his arms slip under her legs and behind her back. Cradling her into his chest as he limped back to their place for the night. "I can't do this anymore." her resentful strain speaks through a low whisper when he lays her down on the horrendously designed sea shell quilt.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I, want," She hesitates, inhales sharply through her nose and exhales heavily from her mouth. An empty expression overtaking her features as she stared out the window into the dark abyss of the starless sky. "to disappear."

"It won't change anything." Red utters, muscles tensing when her hand covers his on the firm mattress.

"I know that," Liz rolls half onto her back to regard him, "but it _will_ terminate the possibility of adding more blood to my already soiled hands." His fist clenched, his mouth working in a nervous tick, her hand curls tighter over his. "I'm not blaming you, my actions today, these past months, I've become a mons-"

"Don't liken yourself to me," He interrupts grief-stricken, twisting at his waist to better face her, "If this is what you truly wish. I will make it happen."

Red begins to stand soon after the words settle around them; Liz tugs at their still joined hands. "We can't see each other," there is a rise and fall to her words; spoken in half a question and half a statement.

"No." He answers, glad that his back was to her and his front was covered in the shadows. Safe from her mournful eyes that could potentially be the end of him. Safe from her witnessing his own inner turmoil and guilt. "If you want a life filled with normalcy." Red pauses, tightening his grip on her fingers, "That's a world without Raymond Reddington tainting its suburban pools."

"Red," She emits his name gently, and a tightness forms in the center of his chest. "What about your list... whatever you are working toward. I thought you couldn't find what you're looking for without me."

He huffs a short, piercingly agonized laugh. "You have become more important to me than the pursuit, it would seem."

"Red," Liz half whimpers.

"I'll find another way."

* * *

_AN: Funny thing about muses, they are fickle little things. This wasn't meant to transform into another multi-chapter... this song was suggested to me for WBP (it's seriously one of the most loveliest songs I've heard in a long time) on Tumblr and what blossomed when I sat and listened for the first time, surprised even me. The end direction is not what I intended. I know this is short; __Chapter 2 will be up sometime tomorrow before I leave. But fair warning, updates for this may be very slow. Depending on RL. _

_As always, reviews are cherished and the mistakes are mine to make. _

_Thanks for reading,_

_- Red Herring_


	2. They Say The Way Your Life Is Made

_Still Owns Nothing..._

_While I don't believe it does, this chapter may fall under an 'M' rating. So, proceed on at your own risk younglings. _

* * *

_They say the way your life is made._

_Is only stars aligning._

_On you go the sea'd roll._

_Lonely souls a-pining._

_You live and hope the one that fits you right,_

_Won't pass you by. _

* * *

It doesn't happen as quickly as the sixty seconds he forewarned. In fact, she expected to wake to an empty hotel suite and instructions on what to do next. She did not expect to board his jet with him.

Finding it's uncomfortable to be in his presence. She sat stiff in her seat staring hopelessly out of the window. Not asking where they were going. She really didn't care.

Liz has receded so far within herself, she was basically on autopilot. Trailing behind Red's lead like a duckling. He doesn't try to speak with her. Her assessment of him could not have been more off. Liz knows now that Red was affected by his actions. He understood. Her way of dealing with the situation wasn't too unlike his own. Detach to recover. Yet, one doesn't truly recover, she assumes. Stitches still leave scars, and time may fade the recollection. The soul will still suffer. Every now and again, something will trigger a memory as to why there is a dull ache localized within; and it will all come flooding back anew.

She wonders if Raymond Reddington stared in the mirror and questioned who he was. If the face looking back at him is just a stranger, to what was. Liz didn't recognize herself. Hasn't for a long time.

She ponders if he ever looked at his reflection and imagines what could have been, or is it all null? Is the past just the past, and you are what you become. Like a snake, shedding his skin, beginning again and again.

Days pass on slowly. They keep to their own sections of the suites they reside. He leaves for most of the day to grant her some form of privacy; and she truly appreciates his quiet efforts.

Liz draws the curtains. Turns off every light source. Simply lingers in darkness. Thinking if she tricked her brain enough, sleep would follow. And if she surrounded herself in blackness, if that was all her eyes saw beforehand, it is what would greet her once they sealed.

All it truly did was place her right back into that room. That penetrating silence. The clicking of the air conditioning taking the roll of those frantic fingers moving against the keys. Her imagination keen to fill in all the rest.

But it was the children that haunted her most of all. Not Jacob.

It was those children that could not be unseen.

She hears the key card slide and the door open softly. Shafts of light expanding the further it opened. Liz doesn't move despite the itch in her muscles to sit up from her laying position.

Bags ruffle as he walks down the hall, he moves through the room blind. Sets the bag on the coffee table in front of her; and she can almost feel his eyes linger on her form. Though they are bathed in darkness. She blinks to readjust her sight, attempting to catch him.

A door clicking to her right concludes Red was already gone. Confined safely in his bedroom, he turns on a light. The pallid yellow slipping beneath the crack.

The pipes rattle when he turns the shower on. After a few moments the scent of his body wash filters in from the vents. Liz breathes it in deeply, doesn't deny the pleasure it brings her. She waits, listens closely as the water turns off, and the shuffling begins behind the door. When it stops, she stands. Using the light escaping his door as a path to follow. When she stands before it, an anxiety built. Though her knuckles already tapped along the wood, and though he didn't make a sound. Liz knew he was coming closer. The shadows breaking the light gave him away.

Red looks disheveled, a darkness in his eyes that suggest whatever he did today was still lingering with him. Standing before him now, the question of why she approached him quietly rebounds around her head. Though deep down she knew.

He tilts his head to the side sympathetically, and moves out of her way. Which she takes as invitation and proceeds.

Red breaks the silence first.

"I spoke with Mr. Kaplan today." he sits on the edge of the bed, "She's gathering the things you'll need."

"Whatever," Liz mumbles, not really interested in speaking. Only acknowledging that her body craved his presence; and that could be done in silence.

She sits beside him on the bed, their cotton pants touching, only a millimeter of space between them. He doesn't shift away. She can feel the heat still retained from his shower radiating off his skin. This bond she shares with him had a peculiar solace. Which in all senses should have taken much longer to develop than it actually did. He reaches over and takes her palm into his own.

A breathy sigh slips past her lips.

* * *

With discombobulation comes a fickle mind and unstable emotions; especially those pertaining to Red. The reality of abandoning him doesn't set in until Liz is in the center of hundreds of possibilities being laid out before her.

Identities, locations, homes...

Red's eyes are sunken and it's as clear as the day that he has yet to sleep. While she has been absent from his pursuance, Red is half way down the hole. Keeping his head above ground to see to her wishes before he succumbs completely. She fears for him. Fears losing him. The worry cracking fractures inside her chest.

These peculiar feelings aren't necessarily new. They bobbed along the surface occasionally. In instances when they were alone, he would do something incredibly mundane; and the feelings would crawl along her veins in tiny electrical shocks. She glances at his appearance. His shirt is from the night before. He's unkempt, a shadow of a beard forming, the stale alcohol smell lingering around him. Remorse pits itself into her core as she shuffles closer to him on the couch.

What if she is about to make a mistake? What if she acted too hastily? She was not only jeopardizing his chance at answers, but also abandoning the quest toward her own.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, "What if I need you?" Liz questions abruptly, after his instructions on how to reach Mr. Kaplan with her final decisions.

His face contorts into something that couldn't be defined as anything but bittersweet emotion. "You'll be taken care of, and you'll be protected." the muscles of his throat tighten after the words fall from his lips. So much so it was visible to her.

"That's not what I mean and you know it." She speaks dejectedly.

"Lizzie," The tenderness around the vocalization of her name causes her to inhale a shaky breath, sets a tremor to conquer her hands. "This will be good for you." his tone is stern and assuring, but Liz can pick up the ambivalent texture laced beneath it.

"What if I have changed my mind?" Liz recoils from the frail sound of her own voice.

"Have you?" His eyebrows knit together, his eyes narrowing as he tried to gouge her subdue expression.

She swallows, as she held his eye contact. "About many things."

A silent conversation takes place between them. A forthright, adoring gaze projected from her. An unspoken confession, that caused her heart to thump painful in quick successions. Red is wanly. Liz doesn't recall a time she's ever seen Red like this, stunned almost; she feels her lips upturn as his blinks continued at a pace that was absurd for him. The rare distress he was experiencing is quite endearing to her. "I'm not being irrational," She mutters, pushing the papers from the space between them. They ruffle down into a mess on the floor. She inches closer, resting her head upon his shoulder, the thudding in her chest continuing. "Or maybe I am. I don't know anymore."

He agrees with a short nod, craning his neck to stare down at her. "Maybe you just need more time." Red tries to reason, his frown was like gazing down the barrel of a gun.

He doesn't push her away, even after Dembe rejoins them in the small space. Her head rolls over his shoulder, her fingers stretch and interlock with his. "Maybe or maybe not."

* * *

He is distant in the coming weeks.

Red granted her plenty of time to rethink everything through. Leaves her to her own meddling, and she pacifies him by looking at the houses he's deemed worthy of a blissful fantasy life. Most in neighborhoods Liz never could afford. All too aware that she was running out of time to make a choice; he could only supply her with so much. His business was halted, anything that needed to be addressed was passed onto third parties or Dembe.

And it is when Red sends Dembe away to do God knows what, that Liz approaches him.

The watery colors in the sky as the sun retired for the evening reflected off of his green eyes, her hands touch his biceps, eyes roaming over his unreadable face.

His lips touched hers with a warmth so gratifying her entire body ignited; her head and her heart at an increasingly hostile war. His kiss was a sullen promise – of what she could not fully know – as well as it was an understanding. She made a decision. One that didn't include him; they both knew. She moves her palm, runs it up his arm delicately, gliding over his shirtsleeve, twiddling with the fabric. There is something about the aesthetics of it all; her fingers moving over his clothes while his mouth moved over hers - the way the sunset's palette of color filtered inside his bedroom, sweeping over them - the way Red was softly caressing her. It makes her want to cry. He lifts her scarred hand from its place over his heart and kisses that too, looking into her eyes adoringly. It may have been a slow crawl, but it was irrevocable. All the perimeters of their relationship have changed. A forecast storm, that has been a long time coming.

When he lifts her, and lays her on his bed, their actions are far too rough. It's far too quick and far too desperate. Several years of pent-up passion, lust, and desire simultaneously combusting.

The second time they take their time with a profound tenderness. They explored the curves of each other in the dimmed room. Laying basked under the glow of a lone streetlight bleeding through the slats of the window shutters. It was strange to feel that content with a person, given the circumstance. They continue touching each other, remaining tangled together, sharing the same breath. Thankful that the world was granting them a period to just be trapped within one another; the time reserved and unmoving, if only for tonight.

They laugh lightly. When Liz discovers that Red is ticklish.

Red in turn discovers Liz's most sensitive erogenous zones; and tampers with them enthusiastically.

He showcased tangible validation of what he felt for her. There was no denial on either end, only unmistakable expressions that could not be read wrongly; even in the low light of the room.

Liz clings to him as Red starts to move. Unhurriedly, and so very purposeful. There is incredibly overwhelming pleasure in the torturous pace. Although, there's something more that grows in the atmosphere between them. There is more meaning in the way they looked at each other. The way they kissed, when words could never amount to the feelings.

_Or they were too guarded to actually let them go._

It was dense, impenetrable and unexplainable. Something that perhaps only takes place with knowing this will be their first as well as their last.

The way Red quietly ushered her name from above her was an unmasked tone of unexploited passion - though, it was the ascent and descent of his cadence like that of a prayer that persuaded her building tears to spill from the corners of her eyes. The rapid pulse of his heart beneath her palm, was a shattered dream of eternity. One that would not be hers or his to share.

The universe wouldn't allow them to make up their own rules just because that is how they wished them to be. It was an unrealistic fantasy. Red lived in an inhumane world; and no matter what he did, or how he did it. Even if he fell off the face of this earth leaving everything behind him; if they deluded themselves that far... to even envision it all working out in their favor.

The truth would always find a way to enlighten them unkindly. Because, happiness and survival would always be based upon an ultimate sacrifice.

A sweet. Bleeding. Sacrifice.

And this night, in offering, was their fused spiritual sacrifice.

* * *

He gets lost in his travels. His fuel for distraction, growing increasingly imprudent. Months moved slowly. Because of her, there is a sharpish pain that pierced through his heartbeats. His vital organ a once dead soldier, resurrected and returned from a long lost war. Though there were crucial repercussions, as it came with accompanying tales. Broken Heart Syndrome; a concept of ancient folklore, became more reality._  
_

He tries to sever her from his life. Every feeble attempt is highly ineffective. And Red is uncertain if he is doing himself a kindness, or prolonging his own torture. Once he breaches their spoken agreement, and observes her from afar (not too unlike before) watching as the months fold over into a year. Receiving systematic updates from those he tasked with protecting her.

Wherever she is, he is assured that she is settled in, but most of all Liz is happy. He becomes reliant on these little details. Though they grow dodgy as the months progressed further. The once detailed spreadsheets of movements, activity; though there are never photographs, turns into single lines and sparse details. Then they stop coming all together.

Mr. Kaplan no longer willing to divulge information to him.

He attempts to find the strength in the pain. Red was the one who plunged the double-edged sword into himself willingly enough.

He tied the knot of his own noose.

The problem was that despite the things they claim in their passed words, there was a constant nagging feeling deep within his gut. Knows enough of the world, to understand how deceitful the surface can be. It can be denial. Perhaps Liz really is fine. Red just couldn't proceed further with the distractions he harbored. His wants and his needs no longer coinciding. He wanted the truth, to see it with his own eyes. Needed to refresh his broken mind, so it may finally mend.

He can no longer stand Dembe's sympathetic and occasional judgmental gazing. His feet were already wet, and he was ready to dive in. He was past the point of no return. He'll deal with whatever regrets follow.

Kaplan ran a tight ship, which was a reason why she was tasked with caring for Liz.

Red is persistent. Eventually, after some very grueling scouring, he does manage to locate them.

A chameleon to the darkness he watches her move through her house. His breath casting tiny cloud puffs into the air. It's amazing how far away one can feel from so close.

Red is satisfied with his findings. He convinces himself to leave her be.

His gaze returning. Lingering. One last time.

Time abruptly halts... And, what he discovers in the depths of his Acheronian forest; drives a sharp spike down the center of his very world. Finishing him off with a savage flick of a wrist wielding a scalpel, for the surgical extraction of his very heart.

* * *

_To be continued... _

* * *

_Very slight AN: I'm very pressed for time trying to ram in as much as possible before the holiday and work taking over. So apologies for the cliff-hanger. _

_I also wanted to thank you guys for the reviews. Your opinions are highly valued. _

_Thanks for reading,_

_- Red Herring _


	3. I Wanna Feel That Very Moment

_Owns nothing._

* * *

_I wanna see you, I wanna see you,_

_Though I have no idea what I'll do._

_I wanna feel it, I wanna feel it,_

_I wanna feel that very moment._

_But the day hasn't come yet,_

_The day hasn't come yet,_

_The day hasn't come. _

* * *

"You should have told me." Red sat in the high-back chair, distressingly silent, until now. He was numbed from head to toe and not just from the chill in his bones set from the hours spent in the dry frost.

"How could you have kept this from me?" Red demanded, his eyes narrow, and follow Kaplan as she moved toward the window. It felt like all the oxygen in the modest home has been pulled, and his shallow inhales did little to fill his lungs.

"It was Liz that requested," Mr. Kaplan is so mildly spoken. And in her distance her words could have been lost in the crackle of the fire, "that I keep it from you." His back bends as he grows boneless in the stiff chair. "There are a lot of things you need to understand Raymond."

"This isn't a complex conundrum, I understand quite well. You can paint duplicity in many vibrant shades. It's still betrayal." Red hissed.

His increasing rage not so quiet any longer. His jaw was clenching, his fingers curled into fists. A pulse beating rapidly in his temples, as a flushing of heat ran a course throughout his body.

When Red stands, the chair kicks back with a dreadful shriek. Kaplan immediately turns to face him. He takes two meager steps, and she is quick to his side. Her heels clicking against the wood in her speedy movement. Enclosing her fingers around his forearm. "Dearie," she warns in a motherly fashion, a disapproving look in her eyes. "that is certainly an unwise decision to make."

"And what would you have me do? Nothing? Just sit on this information, like it has no affect on me?" His fist unclenched down at his sides, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Mind and tongue terrorized by his grappling emotions. He continues glaring at the woman, who had little to no fear of him. Waiting impatiently for a better suggestion.

"You assigned me with two tasks. To care for and protect Liz... and that included protecting her from you. If you remember correctly." Kaplan chided, "I will not allow you to go over there in this state you are in now." Her other hand touches his opposite arm, turning him away from facing the hall, firmly ushering him to the couch instead. "She's not in the state of mind to handle this right now. She has a lot on her plate without your involvement." He's firmly planted in his spot and when he attempts to jerk his arm from her hold, her fingers dig deeper into his skin. "Sit down, and I'll answer your questions." Kaplan commanded, her eyebrows lowering and pulling together; creating more wrinkles into her forehead.

"It's my child." the phrasing sounds foreign on his tongue.

"It's your, son." Kaplan corrects gently. His racing heart began to slow. He was loath to acknowledge it; but there unquestionably was a slight relief that surged through him upon hearing it was a boy. Kaplan's woeful sigh breaks him from his reprieve.

"She had looked very similar during the ultrasound when the sex was revealed." She coaxes him down onto the couch. He finally relents, descending onto the cushion with weakened knees, the musty odor of the fabric inhabits his sense of smell as Kaplan joins him.

She appeared remorseful before she spoke, "Liz violated your agreement. Long before you did. She worries about you half as much as she does your son." His eyes lift up to hers, his thumb drumming against his outer thigh. He couldn't control his fidgeting fingers. All of his pent up energy was surging through them, as he tried to relax the rest of his body. "You should know most of all. Liz struggled with concealing the pregnancy from you, it was in no sense easy for her."

He rubs at the nape of his neck, Liz was an unwanted path to proceed down. His resentment toward her was still raw.

His head was pounding with the lessening of his adrenaline and rage. "What is his name?"

"Robert."

His stare drifts absently into the roaring fireplace. A weight placed upon his chest. "After my grandfather..." he whispers almost inaudibly. A vivid memory of a conversation they once shared assaults him with a violent fury. When his gaze returns to her; Kaplan confirms with a nod.

His eyes pinch tight, fingertips pressing into his furrowed brows.

Mr. Kaplan stands, the cushion sinking and rising beneath him with the motion. She moves around the room, opening cabinets. Red listens to the clinking of glasses, the sloshing of liquid as it spilled inside. They remain closed even when her fingers touch his wrist; his hand opens and Kaplan places a tumbler within it. "I want to see him. I deserve the opportunity to know my son." Red mumbles over the rim, the strong aroma that he breathes in is promising.

"Raymond," She ushers dejectedly, her eyes lowering to the floor, lips pinching tightly. "there is something you should know, about Robert," Kaplan's voice drifts off into something that made Red's stomach drop.

"What?" He asks, though he's afraid to truly know the answer. Her body language caused his spine to straighten. His feet pressed harder into the floor, bracing for him to move. The muscles in his legs clench as he leans forward. The fingers around the glass tightening into a choke-hold.

A grave look decorating her.

Every beat of his heart was a labored effort to carry on.

"The boy, is unwell."

He swallows heavily. His breathing quickening. He can't truly articulate words. And can feel the color draining from his face, as he sank further into this ever expanding abyss. Shaking his head,"You can't tell me that, and just expect..." He expels tensely, "...I should see her. I need to see her."

Red has completely lost his usually strict control over himself. He becomes extremely aware that he sounds like a petulant individual. It actually makes him waver.

"It's becoming increasingly difficult to agree to your terms Kaplan."

He permits a pregnant silence to fall between them. Simply waiting, gathering himself. He observes Kaplan's eyes as they sparkle with contemplative activity.

"He's very inquisitive," she mentions in an obvious effort to further distract him. A chill breathes down the back of his neck, all these highs and lows were leaving him dizzy. And he wasn't conformable, or inclined on being manipulated. "He's very fragile and small looking for his age." She continues, and Kaplan does have his attention, he listens to her speak, digesting all the information. "There is something about the way he observes the world, and his surroundings, it's with such a keen eye. I've never witnessed such a pensive child before." She pauses.

Granting him an option to deter or remain on this track.

"What does he look like?" He hears himself question, the weight of his head was unbearable.

"Big doleful green eyes." There is an upturn to her lips as she spoke of his child, a definite affectionate sound to her voice. "Blond hair. He looks like you, doesn't have an ounce of Liz in him." Kaplan cants her head a little, taking hold of his unseeing eyes. "He's a little bobble head, version of you. With more hair."

His throat grows taut, a wetness forms in a thin layer over his sight. He blinks it away. Swallowing the entirety of his drink. "What's wrong with him?" he rasps out, clearing his throat soon after, failing miserably at keeping his emotions in check. Words tasted like poison. He was feeling heavy, desperately attempting to steady himself.

He holds his breath when her mouth parts; bracing for whatever was to come.

"Ventricular Septal Defect." Kaplan states, glancing back at the window as if she could see straight through and into the adjacent house. "I've researched many world renowned surgeons, and Liz mulled over the three I settled on. She actually just picked one a few days ago. He'll be flying in a few weeks beforehand to talk with her, to run his own tests and whatnot. He's been scheduled for surgery sometime next month."

"And how is Liz?" Red inquires lowly, his head hanging as his palm ran over his cropped hair.

"The honest truth?" She teases lightly.

He nods. "The honest truth."

"Liz is," Kaplan begins, her hand gripping the back of the chair. "overly stressed, emotionally unstable. Her baby weight, and then some, has melted off of her with his diagnosis." Kaplan spouts off, inching back further into the seat. Withdrawing a pack of cigarettes from her inside pocket and pulling one. "She's not sleeping." her words are mumbled as she held it between her lips, a spark and a drag, a puff of smoke. "She watches him sleep."

There is not a single word in the entire world. That could describe and put into significance the hurt or rising conflict he was feeling. He's been shot, tortured for days. None of it felt as brutal as what he was experiencing right in this moment.

The dullest knife, was sawing back and forth over his body, flaying the flesh from his bones.

"She shouldn't know I'm here."

His damp coat that has shaped to him began to feel more like a straightjacket.

* * *

_She's not half as disengaged from their activity as they seem to think she is... _

Liz lays on the couch, with Robert resting upon her chest. Half-asleep with his pacifier hanging limply from his bottom lip. His mouth still moving in a sucking motion. She watches as Gavin did his routine check of the alarm systems. Checking the perimeters. Her hand rubs Rob's back, her light breathing syncing up with his.

"Gavin," She whispers, he stops, turning with a warm smile to face her. "What is going on? Why is the _Nest_ full of activity... Where is Mr. Kaplan?" Liz is basically interrogating him.

"I assure you Liz," Gavin's voice dipped into a raspy timbre that never failed to remind her of Red. "You are in no immediate danger."

"That, is not what I asked."

"You didn't ask at all," He laughs lightly, shifting the curtains back into their original positions.

When she met Gavin for the second time, she vaguely recognized him from the Garrick event. It was the half-up and half-down hairstyle she remembered mostly. He had an extensive history with Red, and not unlike Mr. Kaplan; he was very guarded about what details he shared, and which he kept to himself. She knew he was the leader of the Cavalry. And she's heard some pretty harrowing stories of survival and perseverance from him. He was certainly the most talkative, and she genuinely liked him. With the exception of Kaplan, Gavin was the only one she honestly trusted.

She turns her head, and half grins at him. "I have eyes," she mentions, her fingertips lightly drawing circles into her son's back. "I can see the tension in your muscles."

"Goodnight Liz." Gavin's wrinkles seemed more pronounced as he regards her. An inkling of a smirk contorting his lips.

* * *

_If it was something serious Kaplan would have addressed her by now_.

Is what she kept telling herself as she held the lace curtains back and watched the silhouettes move around the living room of their headquarters. She emits a hefty sigh, dropping the material from her hands. Still staring out the window as it swayed into place.

Yawning Liz moves around the room, picking up the toys from their tummy time.

She then moves over to Robert's crib, touching the back of her finger down his soft cheek. His tiny heart, even in rest, beat frantically; she lays her hand atop feeling the sharp thud transfer into her palm. The span of her single hand bigger than most of his torso.

She always has the urge to lift him, hold him close to her chest and never let him out of her sight. Wants nothing more than to breathe life into him, until that very slight bluish tint disappeared from his body. She runs her free hand over his blond hair. An ache permanently knotted inside her.

"Liz,"

"Is everything okay?" she questions, pulling the blanket from down at Robert's feet, tucking him under. Gavin was silent all day, _that was very unlike him_, her brow furrows as she turns her attention back onto him. "Was there something you needed?"

"Mr. Kaplan would like to speak with you. She's downstairs." His eyes are hard, his vocalization a command.

"Will you stay with him?" Liz frowns deeply, taking a short step forward, dread washing over her. Robert's quiet wheezes keeping the room from falling into silence.

"He'll have my undivided attention while you are away," His features soften instantly, a radiance forms, easing away all the relentless hard edges in his pale blue eyes.

The change in him does nothing to calm her.

She takes a few moments upstairs to gather herself. It was illogical to worry without reason, Gavin's demeanor could suggest a lot of things that didn't pertain to Red. She huffs, slowly takes the first step down; by the time she reaches the middle she's dragging her feet. Feeling incredibly fatigued. She rounds the arch to find Kaplan stock still in the center of her living room, arms held behind her back.

She turns at the sound of Liz's feet shuffling toward her, "We need to talk."

"Nothing good ever follows that statement." Liz groans, waving her arm in invitation to the couch.

She tries to quell the urgent panic that rises when Kaplan opts to stand, her stomach was churning. Certain this was not one of Kaplan's usual visits. It was highly unusual for her to arrive at this hour.

"I'm afraid to ask why you're here," Liz admits honestly, clutching a throw pillow to her chest, gripping it tightly. A seeable tension forms in the sharply dressed, highly controlled woman. "Is Red, okay?"

There is a twitch of a frown in the corner of her mouth for half a second before it is wiped clean. "What is your definition of okay?"

"Not dead... Not on the brink of death." Liz states flatly, ignores the increasing beat in her chest, and the clammy palms.

"He's not dead, or on the brink of death." Kaplan assures.

Liz can't stop the sigh of relief from escaping her as she nods her head.

"Then what is it?" Liz asks timidly, fingers playing with the tassel of the pillow. The tick of the grandfather clock the only sound passing in the room, Liz's patience was wearing thin.

"Kaplan," Liz stays her own fidgeting, her eyes moving over the unmoved figure. "Why did you come?"

"He's here. He's been here." It's direct and to the point, and Liz can tell it took a great effort for her to betray Red again in such a way.

Her mouth parts. The words a fist to her chest. Her lungs ache as she turns her stare out the large window; and is met with a vision of a dark inky mirror lacking her reflection. For an odd moment she felt as if she were suspended in blackness, connected to nothing in this world. "I want, -" Liz pauses, because it was not a question of what she wants, or what she needed. "should I see him?" she asks somewhat dumbfounded.

"That my dear, is entirely up to you." Kaplan huffs, flicking her wrist at Liz.

"Does he know, about Robert?" Liz's eyes close, as Kaplan answers with a stern 'yes', "Everything?" another 'yes' and when Liz's eyes reopen it's to Kaplan's contrite gaze.

"Raymond didn't ask me to -"

"I know," Liz cuts her off while standing, making toward her designated guardian of sorts. "I really don't want to do this tonight." Liz releases the statement under her breath, "I know all of this wasn't easy, -" Liz pauses and rethinks when she sees the look of vexation on Kaplan's face, and proceeds differently. "I appreciate you coming over here."

She takes drawn-out steps from the room, her thoughts running in a thousand different directions. When her fingers curl over the polished wood of the banister. Her conscious argues that her head was still never in tune with her heart when it came to Red. Liz so very easily and so willingly fell into his gravitational pull. "Tomorrow," slips out without thought, as if confirming her inner musing. She hears the door hinge stop with a hiss. "I'll message you, when I'm ready." Liz finishes nearly choking on the words, she glances over her shoulder to catch Mr. Kaplan's brief nod.

She's always known that the tangled web that they weaved together would eventually snag at some point. She anticipated that it would. She wished at some point during the pregnancy he would discover the secrets that she kept. Then perhaps she could have avoided this. Then she wouldn't have had to continue to spin the silk. Continue having Kaplan delude the facts.

The guilty conscience festered deeply within her soul. There have been a multitude of times when Robert would smile and all she would see was Red's face. He resembled Red so much it was often times painful to look into his haunting eyes that greeted her adoringly.

She couldn't live with herself anymore.

It was a deliberate proceeding on Liz's part to slow and eventually stop the reports from reaching Red. It was not done in spite. It was done with an inkling of hope.

Liz cast a lure, and quietly prayed for a bite.

So why did she suddenly feel like the fish on the line being tired out and led downstream by the fisherman?

She's more restless than usual, walking aimlessly through her home. Stopping often to check on her son.

_Their son..._

* * *

All the things she wished she hadn't done, are twirling around her head; until it all just became madness. Liz hardly slept, contemplating how to introduce Robert to him. Liz wasn't completely sure which 'Red' would appear on her doorstep. All of her walls were crushing down around her. The path she chose to walk, undoubtably hurt him more than it hurt her.

She puts an effort into dressing. Tries to hide the fact that she was slightly underweight. For the first time in months she applies makeup to her pallid complexion. It does little to hide that her eyes have deadened, and can't truly conceal the dark bags that took home beneath them.

Liz puts in valiant efforts to pretend like today is anything but abnormal. As she held Robert her thoughts continue to wander. She ultimately sends Gavin upstairs with him before she sent the signal to Kaplan. Fighting against the urge to watch through the window. Curious if Red was experiencing as much anxiety as she was.

The house is eerily quiet, as she stood in the streams of sunlight that broke through the foyer. Her knees were growing weak.

Then the soft sounds of the Sorrento music box began floating down the stairwell; it causes her heart to constrict painfully.

When the knock finally rings, her hand trembles as it closes around the handle. She realizes she's not breathing properly. Taking a deep inhale, she holds her breath; inching the wood from the frame slowly. It didn't feel like time was moving at all, her eyes on his shoes, begin to inch upward.

She's still not actually breathing.

Liz looks everywhere but into his eyes. Too afraid of what she'll find concealed within them. He didn't speak, and she couldn't move to even grant him silent entrance. All she can focus on is the trees shaking against the howling wind.

Red's fingers tap against the seam of his pants. It's then that she brings her eyes to his. And though he appeared even-tempered, looks were always deceiving.

She shivers when the frigid air brushes her. Conjuring up something akin to a voice, "Come in," Liz moves, and watches as he passes her. The music continued to bound down the stairs, and Red's focus immediately rises to it. She feels light-headed for a moment, the tightening in her chest only increasing when she looks at the anguished look upon him. "It's the only way he'll fall asleep." She whispers, and Red turns to look down at her. In a way it was like he was holding her without even touching her.

Her lip begins to tremble as everything all at once became too overwhelming. Icy fingertips touch her lips, then expand over her mouth to stop the whimper from escaping. Turning her back to him as she fell victim to the tears that escape. A soft shaking erupting as it continued.

"Lizzie," He emits softly, his hand closing over her shoulder. His shoes echo against the wood as he moved around her. She can feel the heat of his body, and she takes an unwilling step forward; which he must take as a request, because he wraps his arms around her, drawing her to him. "I'm no longer angry with you." he rasps, his nose brushing the shell of her ear.

"I'm so sorry," She cries anyway, the words muffled into his chest.

Red holds her, strokes her back, as the music continues to flow down from the nursery.

* * *

He's first to pull away, his palms closing over her face, brushing the tears off of her cheekbones. A small part of him wanted to kiss her forehead, but he restrained from doing so. He merely ran his knuckle down her cheek, and took a reluctant step back. Her hands slide down his chest, and she surprises him when both slip into his.

"Let's talk," She speaks in a docile tone.

When they do take their seats beside each other; they land in a very common crisis of not knowing how to carry on with one another. He knows it is Liz who has to take the lead. And he would wait patiently.

She clutches his hand, and in the end she does speak first. "I don't know where to begin."

She won't look at him, despite his many efforts in catching her stare. "We don't have to talk." he rubs his thumb along her skin soothingly. Mr. Kaplan has already informed him of the missing months. A far different version than the reports he was given. "I know regrets can collect in abundances," Red says mournfully, tilting his head to the left to view her face, "But you had ample reasons for withholding it from me Lizzie. You were damned if you do and damned if you don't. Fear is a powerful thing, and your apprehension about word getting out, is understandable."

"You deserved to know about him Red," finally Liz turns toward him, her knee bumping into his own. "You deserved to know the truth." he wishes she didn't look so shamefaced as she spoke to him. "And I should have been the one to tell you about his heart condition. You should have been able to hear it from me," Her voice quakes, and she releases his hand.

He shakes his head and reaches to take her hand in his once again, "Can I see him?"

* * *

Liz feels disconnected from her body as she led Red up the stairs and down the hall to Robert's bedroom.

Gavin was in the recliner. He stands at Red's appearance. A smirk gracing both men as they walked toward each other. Embracing one another and speaking quietly amongst themselves.

Gavin then excuses himself, touching her shoulder and granting her a sympathetic look on his way out.

She leans against the wall as Red looked around the nursery.

It wasn't really all that decorated; the walls were cerulean, with a simple white border. The shelves housed stuffed animals, and a shaded floor lamp was in the corner on the side of the suede recliner. His crib was modest, and Robert wasn't too interested in mobiles so it lacked any real visual stimulation. He preferred toys he could hold in his hands.

Red turns, looking to her for permission to approach the crib. She nods, as a shiver shook her.

Inhaling a single shallow breath, she lays her palm over her heart just to reassure herself it was still beating. Watching as he reaches the frame, his back expanding with his inhale, before his head falls down to gaze inside. Faintly she hears a choked sound escape him. "You can touch him Red, it's okay." she insists, unable to advert her eyes.

Red leaned over and lifted him. His tiny arms flailing in the air from the sudden movement. Robert makes a delicate noise, but doesn't wake. He looked so impossibly dainty against Red's chest once he was cradled there.

When Red lifts his eyes to hers there is a sheen of tears. That glimmer in the soft lighting. Her chest expands, her own eyes mist over. She was basically viewing his heart break right before her. When she witnesses a single tear descend from the corner of his eye; just at the moment his lips touched the center of the baby's forehead. It took a great deal of effort not to break down again.

She moves into the room, pressing her head against his shoulder as they both savored the baby between them.

It is with great unwillingness that Red places Robert back in his bed. She rubs her hand along his back with a heavily set frown.

"Kaplan said he was small for his age," Red utters weakly, the fingertips of his right hand roaming over Robert's arm. "I didn't imagine him to look so, frail. Breakable even."

He sounds distant, lost in his own thoughts. Only half coherent, he may not even realize he spoke at all.

"Eating isn't easy for him," Liz touches her hand over the back of Red's on the wooden rail, "He struggles when he eats, grows breathless. Eventually he gets too tired to continue." Red winces, his fingers running over Robert's downy hair. "The doctors want to place him on a feeding tube, for four days, before his operation. They want to give him a boost of nutrition beforehand."

Red remains quiet, his palm resting over Robert's heart. She can feel his eyes fall upon her, so she brings herself to look up at him.

"He'll be okay Lizzie," Red vows.

"You can't know that." Liz mumbles in a somber tone.

"He will." Red repeats with heavy conviction.

She leans into his palm once it's placed on her cheek. Tipping her chin upward as he very cautiously lowered his face toward hers. His lips press softly to her forehead.

She sighs dreamily, as his mouth lifted from her skin. His hand gripped her hip, and she takes a step closer; pressing her body against his. "Everything will be okay," He promises, cradling the back of her head, as she sunk further into the frame of his body.

"I don't want you to leave." She emits into the crook of his neck.

"Then I won't"

* * *

Liz insists that they share a bed, there was no point in him sleeping downstairs on the couch uncomfortably. When her bed was big enough for the two of them. It's not like they haven't before. During their travels there were plenty of times when they platonically shared a mattress. It didn't have to be awkward, so long as they didn't make it so.

"He sleeps through the night?" Red questions while slipping the buttons off his vest, folding it and laying it on top of her bureau.

"He normally sleeps until around 5:30am." She replies, turning on the monitor on the end table, "He's always been a good sleeper."

"Kaplan said that he's very _pensive."_ Red's fingers begin to work on the button on his fly. Liz quickly diverts her eyes as he begins to slip them downward.

"He's a lot like you, in more than just his looks." Liz slides beneath the covers, giving Red one of her pillows.

Disregarding all the thoughts about sharing a bed with someone after all this time of sleeping alone. Pretends not to notice how less lonely her room felt just with his presence. And not in the sense that there was another person within it. The entirety of her bedroom felt brighter. "He really has that contemplative stare of yours down."

Red's laugh evokes a broad smile from Liz. She rolls over and watches him shrug his shoulders free of his button up shirt. A blush spreads over her cheeks and a sudden warmth flared in her stomach.

He peels back the blanket on his side and the bed dips as he joins her. His eyes peeked at the monitor beside her. "Every time I looked at him," She begins, and the newly hatched butterflies run rapid in her stomach as he looks deeply into her eyes. A look she's seen so many times projected from Robert radiated out from them.

Adoration.

"I thought of you." Liz admits.

Red's mouth forms a tight line, as he reaches forward. Brushing her hair off her face. "And I despised myself for, -"

"Shush," Red shifts closer, "None of that." he whispered soothingly, his hand finding hers beneath the blanket, "Try to sleep Lizzie, I'll watch him."

* * *

_AN: Had I known how hard it would be to slip into Mr. Kaplan's skin... I may have held off incorporating her. Hopefully, she's not too OOC or disappointing. _

_VSD is something very near to me. The character of Robert is/will be loosely based off of my nephew. Hopefully that doesn't disappoint as well. _

_Mistakes are mine, and I do so enjoy reading your thoughts. So please don't be shy. __Thanks for reading,_

_- Red Herring_


	4. Is Only Stars Aligning

_Ownership status: unchanged_

* * *

The indistinct glow of the baby monitor cast enough light in the darkness to allow a clear sight of each other. The gentle audio of Robert's every inhale and exhale takes place of an awkward silence.

Liz wasn't sleeping or even remotely attempting to sleep. Her eyes were droopy, but she was too stubborn to fully cave into the pull of slumber.

"Do you recall the night we spent in Ibiza?" She questions, releasing his hand while turning around, facing her back to him.

He did, very clearly.

"Yes." Red answers, shifting more on his side. Eyes watching the even rise and fall of her back.

Liz's breaths came in perfect time with the ones coming from the monitor. He wondered if on some subconscious level she synchronized them, in an effort to count them.

"We drank a lot that night," Liz moves, shuffles back a little closer in his direction, "I don't even remember what provoked it, or how we came to be out there, and I still don't. Yet, I can remember sitting on that beach with you. How cold the sand felt, I can remember in great detail the way the moon reflected off the unmoving water like a perfectly mirrored reflection. I've never seen water as clear or as vibrant, even in the dark, it was breathtaking."

His eyes close for a brief moment, listening to her delicate voice. Fading into his memory as she went about verbalizing it. Red had no trouble recollecting that night; he could easily visualize the way the ends of her hair swayed with the caressing of the warm wind. Could taste the salt in the air, the wine, the way it all mixed in with the intoxicating fragrance she wore.

When he reopens his eyes, he realizes he missed part of what she was speaking about; so lost in his vivid imagination.

Red forces himself to refocus.

"When I asked about your childhood, I didn't really think you were going to answer. But I had a slight hope, considering how chatty you were." Liz laughs lightly, and his lips crinkle into a smirk, "I don't know if it was the alcohol, or just because you were in a good mood, -"

"I didn't want you to leave." Red releases lowly, cutting her off momentarily. "I saw, in your eyes, after I spoke of Morocco, that you were thinking about leaving." he views a shiver erupt, shaking the muscles of her back. "And, I didn't want you to leave."

The revelation lingers inside a very vacant pause. Liz takes a sharp breath, which sounded like an inverse hiss.

"From the very moment I was made aware it was a boy. There was no other considerations. I knew, that he would be named after him." Liz utters continuing on toward the point she was originally trying to make; her words pull at the strings of his heart, his head immediately grew lighter. His eyes lifted to the child in the crib, watched the way his mouth occasionally moved, and his eyelids fluttered. "He may not have your surname. Hell he doesn't even have mine. But it is your bloodline that he carries, and even if I only knew the truth, I wanted him to at least have something that attached him to you."

Liz's voice trembles toward the end of her admission, and he unconsciously reached forward. Touching his palm to the center of her back. Feeling how the quilted tension instantly relaxed as he slid it over the expanse. When she doesn't object to his calming touches, or pull away; he follows the notches of her spine. Roaming over her shoulder, and running down her arm.

If there was an invisible line drawn down the center of the bed. An unspoken agreement of sorts. Red couldn't bring himself to obey.

From the moment she finished speaking he wanted to hold her. So he acted on his own selfish impulse. And he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. Feeling more than hearing the tranquil sigh that escaped as Liz placed her hand on his arm. His head resting partly on her shoulder and partly on her head.

They both simultaneously bring their attention upward, looking at the video display of Robert.

Lapsing into a now relaxing quiet.

His thumb absentmindedly brushing over her shirt, running across her ribs. As her own set to gliding up and down his arm.

In the course of the last few days Red's life has spun so far out of orbit, oblivion has begun calling his name.

It was as if his body needed to maintain some kind of physical connection with Liz. His only grip on reality was the reassurance contact with her granted him. Some kind of solid proof that he wasn't living in some elaborate dream.

He'd spent many nights ruminating on how he got to this point. Many nights after she was gone from his life. When that ache formed deep in his chest and sealed to its permanent junction.

Red has lived a comfortable life maintaining distance. Content with the loneliness that attached to him as definite as his own shadow.

That's part of the many reasons things didn't work with Madeline, and while he was fond of her. There was nothing she could tempt that was worth the risks that proceed it. His mind, body, and soul was devoted to one thing and one thing only. Finding the truth behind his unsolved mystery.

Liz was an unforeseeable element; one that has completely dismantled him. Made him question everything.

Makes him suddenly want to reevaluate what was worth chasing. In a way no one else has, and never will.

He breathes in the sweet scent of Liz, picking up traces of the baby lotion he faintly discovered lingering on Robert. He nuzzles closer. Just softly inhaling the aroma that has haunted him on so many of those nights he thought of her. An almost indescribable scent he wished he was capable of forgetting, and at the same time wishes he never would.

Endless ecstasy with her just laying inside his arms.

It set his muscles to ease, the thumping in his chest to slow, and with the added calm of his son's breathing... He's not sure he remembers what peace feels like anymore, but this could very well be it.

And deep in his soul, he knows this won't last, knows it can't last.

A family is not a card held in his hands. Never was.

"I was on the cusp of nearly kissing you that night." She emits breathlessly.

And Red knows she's half-asleep, there was a lethargic tone in which she spoke that sounded like only half coherency.

"I, all too quickly realized I had developed very explicit feelings for you, and that's why I wanted to leave. To stop myself from acting upon them. It had nothing to do with the snake charming woman you so fondly spoke of."

His chest rumbles with quiet laughter; as he tilts his head down and lays his lips to the exposed skin of her neck.

She inhales through her nose, and her exhale sounded a lot like the contentment that was overflowing within and throughout him.

* * *

It's not that Liz didn't want to sleep.

She's simply forgotten how to fully give herself up to her subconscious. Forgot how to turn everything off and fully succumb herself to a state of absence. Too used to dangling on the thread of being awake and asleep. Too used to listening to every subtle change in the noises from the baby monitor.

It's not like Liz didn't trust Red to watch Robert, it was simply that sleep was too foreign a concept.

And the longer she stood within his arms. Even with some of the carried burdens that were lifted in the last several hours. When she bypassed all the butterflies, bypassed all the comfort. When the exhilaration died. Liz found herself still feeling unbelievably leaden. Her bones ache, and despite the warmth of Red's body her skin felt cold.

Irrational alarm bells were ringing inside her head, everything felt strange and untrue. Almost like a parallel universe she tumbled into and can't shake out of.

There was a constant tingle in the back of her throat, words that wanted to break out of their sequester; her body wanted to eject all the sins it harbored deep within her soul. Wanted to finally be free, so maybe she can then find some type of absolution.

His voluntary acceptance all of a sudden became a bitter pill to swallow. She expected to be scolded in some form. In some way that she often imparted onto him in their earlier days. In some way that she thought she deserved.

One child's life was brutally stolen. Then the birth of another was concealed from him. Both Unjust. One by her own involvement, and even if he's here now, it was still underlined with treachery.

She's sure betrayal was a great offense in Red's personal judicial system; _Grey_ _died_ _for_ _betrayal._

Liz knows with every ounce of her being that Red would never harm her. But she expected... Something. And perhaps if Red showed even the slightest variety of anger toward her. Maybe then some the guilt could have eased away. But instead she was consoled by him; and being held within the fortress of his arms felt less and less like a consolation she merited.

"You know Lizzie, sleep wouldn't be the worst thing." Red speaks in just above a whisper. "It may put an end to whatever unreasonable tormenting you're putting yourself through."

"Red," She turns in his hold, their proximity a little too close for comfort when face to face. His jagged exhale touches her top lip, and she instinctively pulls her face away, just to gain some distance. Trying to read his impassive features. "Why... are you not angry with me?" she stammered over her words, watching the little tick in his cheek flare.

"I was," Red answers, his blink is a slow one, the lashes lingering against his skin before retreating and opening again. There was a yielding clarity to his eyes, "Kaplan received the brunt of it."

Liz grimaces.

"Would me being angry change anything?" he inquired, "It certainly won't reverse time, and besides," his fingers close around her wrist, finding her scar and stroking it airily. It has its desired effect, it calms some of the nervous strain that was on the incline.

"I was never quite good at being angry with you Lizzie."

When she still doesn't break, Red huffs, "I also understand that we need to be working together and not apart." His eyebrows pinch together, then his touches stop. "Do you want me to be angry, with you?" he looks thoroughly confused by his own question.

"Sam always said '_killing a person with kindness, does more than granting them the ire they expect_' and I never quite believed him. Until now." She itches to move away, but the poignant look captivating Red's eyes wouldn't allow her to.

"Lizzie, I assure you, that is not my intent." Red states calmly, but his edges are sharpened. His pliable body now rigid.

"It may not be, but it is what it feels like." She grumbles and untangles herself from him. Tries not to pay too much attention to the look on his face from the one-eighty they've just experienced.

"Lizzie," He sighs heavily, and in her peripheral she can just notice his hand extending and hovering over her upper arm; but he seems to think better of it and withdrawals.

She thought it would be impossible to find sleep.

It was a lot easier than she expected.

* * *

The sun's rays dance upon her eyelids, and as her senses all came into focus; as her sight went from blurry outlines to sharp images. She rolls over half expecting to find the bed empty. But instead is met with the image of Red holding the monitor between his hands, "I've been waiting for him to cry before I woke you," Red mentions, as she rests her cheek on the back of her hand. "He's been up for," he turns his wrist and examines his watch, "almost thirty minutes."

Robert babbled to himself, occasionally gurgling as he rolled from side to side. "He won't," she can pick of the faint fragrance of Red's cologne lingering on her pillow. "Unless he's having a bad day. A small part of me thinks he somehow understands that it exhausts his energy, and if he just waits I'll come. Normally, I'm there before he even opens his eyes."

She slides out of the bed, and he lays the device on the nightstand. Beginning to leave the confines of the bed himself, but Liz holds her hand and silently requests that he stay put. He obliges, adjusting the blanket back onto him, and scooting higher to rest his back half against the headboard.

She pads down the hallway and into the nursery, cooing down at Robert before she lifts him. His head rests on the tendon between her shoulder and neck; as his fingers slipped into her hair, gathering strands and holding on. Her eyes shut as her head lays against his, her palm rubbing over his back.

Liz always thought she understood what love looked and felt like. She just didn't know that the love for a person, can be so tremendously different from the love a mother has for their child.

From the very moment she felt the quickening, to the moment she actually held him in her arms. She recognized instantaneously that she never knew the parameters of love at all. Robert opened up a part of her heart that Liz never knew existed; and it permitted her to love from a completely different, uncharted, part of herself.

Slowly she takes them into her bedroom. A fear building inside her that Robert might reject Red. She can't even imagine how excruciating that kind of experience would be for him. Can't imagine what it's like to be a stranger to your own child.

When Liz steps through the frame of the door she can see the tension that builds in Red; all the trepidation that inhabits him. He too must share the same fears.

Her legs touch the bed, she looks down at Red. His eyes grow darker as they close. He nods when they open again, and his inner pain was so palpable she could feel it move within her. She's witnessed that much profound emotion in his eyes, only once.

Stilling her touches. Robert lifts his head, and she twists just slightly so he could see Red. She laughs when his tiny eyebrows lift, both sets of green eyes staring at one another. Red very slowly, very carefully, lifts his hand and brushes the tip of his finger down Robert's, who doesn't shy away from his touch.

He seemed enthralled by Red.

When his little fingers stretch and wrap around Red's, she feels the heat of a tear as it curves over her cheek.

It's on intuition that she adjusts her hold, and hands him off to Red. Robert's entire face contorts, not with fear, but with that insightful look he tended to wear whenever faced with something new.

Red pulls his legs up and rests Robert's back against them, allowing Robert a small feeling of freedom. His green eyes leave Red's and lift to hers, "It's okay," She assures, moving away from the bed and rounding it to join them.

It doesn't take long before a small hand lifts and touches Red's face. Lightly sweeping over Red's skin, the tip of his nose, and seemingly fascinated by the stubble that adorned his cheeks. It was a texture he was unfamiliar with.

Liz slides in closer, laying her head close to Red's arm, not quite touching him. Quietly observing the two get better acquainted.

Red chuckles when Robert grips his lips. And when Red playfully nibbled on his fingers. Robert smiles...

Then Robert laughs.

Liz's breath hitches, "Red," her heart was about to beat clear out of her chest, as Robert continued to laugh. His head falling back against Red's thighs.

Red would stop and allow him to catch his breath, then Robert would entice the nibbling again. His laughter increasing, turning into gleeful shrieks.

"He rarely laughs. I mean he'll laugh, but not like that,-" Liz swallows around the lump in her throat. "I can't believe, you made him laugh..." she expels in wonderment.

Looking from Red to Robert, both seemed to be lost in their own little world which only contained each other.

* * *

_AN: __Thank you guys for all the well wishes for my nephew, he's a little ball of life. Completely healthy and happy five year old that is way too intelligent for his own good._

_Mistakes are mine, and your reviews are always welcomed and cherished. _

_Thanks for reading,_

_- Red Herring_


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